The old man stopped and looked reflectively.
“Ay! are ye gaein’ to be precentin’ the day, Willie?”
“Yes,” replied Willie, proudly.
“Weel, then,” said Mr. C⸺, “I’m gaein’ hame;” and home he went.
He might have gone to church that day, however, for Willie came off with flying colours and, though he has precented many a year and day since, he has never had occasion again to “redeem his character.”
But precentors have “stuck” after they have had years of experience, and I have heard of one in a country kirk who frequently pitched his tunes too high, and when he failed in his efforts to carry them through, he would stop and shake his head and exclaim, “It’ll no do, chaps; we’ll need to try’t a wee thocht laicher.”
Another, after repeated ineffectual attempts to raise the tune on a certain occasion, turned round, and looking up to the minister, exclaimed, “Dod, sir, that psalm’ll no sing ava.”
One who was suffering from cold occupied the desk so imperfectly that the minister whispered to him over the pulpit—
“What’s the matter wi’ ye, John?”
“’Deed, sir,” replied John, “I’m fash’d wi’ an unco kittlin’ i’ the paup o’ my hass.”